Astray
by RyukiData
Summary: Ripped apart from the one he loved, Leon finds everyday a struggle against life. When a strange girl appears searching for someone, Leon goes out to meet her. But is she the one he's looking for? [Leon-Aerith-Cloud. Chapter 4 Up!]
1. Forgotten

Author's Quickie: I want to apologize for not putting up the next chapter of **Project Trinity** as I had promised; I stumbled into a huge writer's block and I can't seem to get out of it. As a small measure of redemption, I wrote this to satiate your hungers for a while. It's semi-AU, and includes some things that I think Kingdom Hearts should have included [such as more explanations]. I will try to finish Chapter seven as soon as possible. 

Disclaimer: Read it and weep. No ownership.

****

Astray

Prelude: Forgotten

"Hello. I'm sorry, but can you help me? I'm looking for someone." The voice came from underneath a black-cloaked figure, who appeared to be of medium height. Although the voice was muffled, there was something that sounded awfully suspicious, as if something wasn't normal.

Cid glanced at the stranger sitting across the bar table warily, searching for a word to put his finger on. Traverse Town was very seedy nowadays. Never could tell what wackos were roaming the streets. But, then again, there had been a lot of homeless refugees wandering around lately. Perhaps the stranger was looking for one of them. "Yeah?" he said finally. "What's the guy look like?"

"Well, it's a man...about twenty-one to twenty-two years old, I guess...blue eyes...he's... a powerful warrior, and he carries a strange sword around." The stranger answered in what seemed a strained voice. "I haven't seen him for so long, so I don't know if he's changed or not..."

It was definitely getting fisher by the minute, Cid decided. He knew some people who would have fit the stranger's description, but... "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid that I have no idea who you're talking about," he lied casually. "There's so many people in and out my bar these days that I can't remember."

The figure nodded and stood up. "Thank you. I'm sorry to have bothered you." Cid watched as the stranger went out the doors, not realizing until he saw a flash of pink cloth underneath the bottom of the cloak what had been bothering him.

The stranger was a woman.

* * *

The doors swung open a minute or so after the strange woman in the cloak had left, and Cid looked up expectantly, hoping at the very least to apologize to her. Instead, a man with shoulder-length brown hair met his gaze with a sardonic grin. 

"Leon," Cid greeted, waving a hand at one of the nearby empty seats. It was getting pretty late, but some faithful patrons were still lounging around, far beyond the point of drunkenness. 

"Hey Cid. How's business?" Leon answered, grabbing a metal bar stool and promptly sitting down on it. 

Cid grinned wryly; Leon was an easy guy to talk to, even though it took quite a while to break down his tough-guy shell. "Business? It's a hell-hole. But enough about that. What have you been up to?"

The young brown-haired man shrugged and picked up a glass of water that Cid handed to him, who knew that Leon declined any alcoholic beverage. "This and that," Leon said elusively. "I found an underground passage in the sewers in District Two. I'm thinking about making that a temporary abode. It's pretty secluded."

"Secluded is good, right?" Cid chuckled, busying himself with wiping off the bar counter. 

A grimace crossed Leon's face. "Yes. I've been busy lately with some street thugs hanging around. They seem to think they own the place."

Cid growled and shook his head. "They been bothering you, kid? I swear, Traverse Town's getting worse by the second."

Leon shrugged again. "Traverse Town's a place where refugees are landing the most. Remember," he recollected, a faint smile on his face, "how you picked me off the streets a few months back?"

"Yeah. How could I forget?" Cid grinned at the not too-distant memory. To be sure, Leon wasn't one of the regular bums that fell into the street; he fought back. Cid could tell the minute he saw him. "You tried to attack me with that strange sword of yours."

His friend gave a faint smile that didn't nearly reach his lips. He never really smiled; a sarcastic grin or a semi-smile that bordered on sorrow was the closest anyone saw him get. "Yes. My gunblade."

"Your...gunblade..." Cid repeated thoughtfully. It was a long shot, but... "Hey, Leon," he said shortly, knowing it would cause an inevitable amount of pain to ask him so, "Didn't you tell me you were looking for a girl you used to know?"

Pain was so clearly marked in Leon's eyes, the tentative smile disappearing instantly, and Cid immediately felt guilty for bringing the subject up. "Yes," he answered hollowly, "I am. Her name's Rinoa."

"Rinoa, huh?" Cid stroked the slight stubble on his chin thoughtfully.

Leon glanced at him with more than a touch of curiosity. "Why?"

"...A girl came in here; said she was looking for a young man with a strange sword," Cid explained. Leon's head snapped up in riveting attention, his gaze intensely focused. "You came immediately to my mind, but I wasn't sure if I should tell her anything. So she left."

Leon jumped up from the seat, a new hope rekindled in his blue eyes. "When did she leave?" he asked quickly, already halfway across the room.

"Just a few minutes before. She was wearing a black cloak; you can probably still catch up with her in the streets. Hurry, Leon. Don't miss your chance." Cid waved him away, urging him to go.

Leon turned and opened the door, gratitude in his look as he turned to say goodbye. "Thanks, Cid. I'll never forget it." 

With that, the heavy oak door swung closed, leaving Cid to stare worriedly after his trailing shadow.

* * *

"Hey, you!" a man surrounded by a group of street thugs called. When she made no reply, instead bringing her cloak closer around her body, the gang of men ran to catch up with her. What an idiot she was, she thought to herself bitterly, walking around in the streets at such a time. "Yeah, you! We're talking to you, buddy!"

One of them grabbed her arm and yanked her around roughly. "Don't you know when to stop when you're called?" he hissed at her, his breath reeking of stink. She recoiled in disgust and futilely tried to disentangle herself from his fearfully strong grip.

"Do you want to die?" one of the others said dangerously, whipping out a pocketknife. "Give us your money, buddy, unless you want your throat cut."

She didn't dare answer; her voice might give her away too easily. Evidently the men took her silence as a rebuttal and advanced threateningly. Fighting a hysterical urge to scream, she scratched the man who had been holding her arm in the face as an act of desperation. The man yelped in surprise and jumped back, raising a hand to his face and letting go of her arm.

The other members of the gang ran over to her assist the man she had attacked, allowing her to gain a momentary advantage. She ran. "HEY! It's a girl!" the man yelled, realizing that no man would scratch--and scratch quite so hard, either. After the slight shock had worn away, they pursued her with new vengeance.

Running was making her breathless, and the adrenaline mixed with the taste of fear on her tongue. Could she scream? Who would hear her? Throwing a terrified look behind her, she saw that the thugs were gaining on her. Quickly, without looking beforehand, she turned the corner and found herself at a dead end.

Her eyes widened in horror as she cursed her bad luck, twisting around to run back out. The shadows of the men at the entrance to the dead end made her skitter to an abrupt stop, and she cried out in frustration, "No!"

They were leering at her; the greasy grins showed their crooked yellow teeth as they flexed their muscles and cracked their knuckles, approaching her with an easy haughtiness. She cringed, flattening herself against the wall and closing her eyes.

"No!!" The sound of a metal blade striking against the wall drew her attention and she immediately opened her eyes. A fourth figure had joined the others, but it seemed that he was fighting them; the shadows were too dense in the dead end. Squinting, she could make out that the flash of silver was actually a strangely-shaped sword in the man's hand. Her heart leaped.

After the street thugs had seen that they clearly were outmatched, they scampered away as fast as they could run without another look behind them. Checking his irresolute anger at Traverse Town petty criminals, Leon turned to the girl, who stared at him with a mixture of fear and wonder.

Dumbfounded, he stared back.

It was not Rinoa.

* * *

Ending Notes: Yipe. My birthday sucked, just to let you know. --;


	2. Alone in the Dark

Author's Quickie: AH! The second chapter is finally out! Sorry guys, I was preoccupied with Project Trinity for a while [posted chapter 10 of that, check it out!]. Anyway, on this continues... [Heck, you might even consider this a "prequel" of sorts...]

****

Astray

Chapter Two:

Alone in the Dark

__

What the hell just happened? she found herself thinking. Her glance traveled to the rather stoic-looking Goth-dressed man walking in front of her a few paces away. After the man [who, she was disappointed to find out, was not _him_,] had saved her and taken a good look at her, he immediately let out an expletive so loud, she was sure the other side of town had heard it. Then he walked away, without a second glance, leaving her to stare in bewilderment. After more than a moment's hesitation, she trailed slowly after him.

He couldn't stop cursing at himself; what an idiot he was! Getting all worked up to save someone that was _not_ Rinoa. Leon punched the wall in his anger as he passed, leaving a gaping hole the size of his fist in the cement. He could barely hear the stifled gasp of the girl behind him, and grimaced wearily. 

What the hell was he doing? That was the problem. It was just, for a couple of minutes, there was such a surge of hope in his heart--that all his worries and troubles would fly away as soon as he saw Rinoa, only to have it snatched away the moment he thought his problems were over--by this girl! His conscience chided him for being so thick-headed, but for the moment he couldn't help but feel utter distaste for her. 

"Sorry," Aerith apologized, not quite knowing why she was and hating him for it.

"Tch." He kicked an empty soda can down the gutter, his sour mood still unabated. "What for? You didn't do anything." Though his words meant well, there was that bitter edge that made everything seem false.

Aerith could feel her anger rising quickly; why was this man taking it out on _her_? She was thankful, really, that he had come to save her, but that was no pretense to be _rude._ "You're right," she said heatedly, "I didn't do anything. Now would you stop treating me like a criminal, please?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she quickly clamped a hand over it. What was she saying? Ugh. What a nuisance. She had been planning to drop by, take a quick look or two in this district, and move on; instead, she was trailing after this strange man like some stray puppy that had been kicked.

"...sorry," he mumbled, ashamed at being scolded--and scolded rightly. He sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. _I'm moping around again. That won't do. _"So...Cid said you were looking for someone. Who is he? Maybe I can help."

She blinked; who was Cid? Seeing her blank look, Leon added, "The owner of the bar. The middle-aged guy you were talking to." Cocking her head, she regarded him seriously. Why would he care? Wait, he had blue eyes... _Oh._ That made sense why he was so angry when he had gotten a good look at her; he must have thought she was someone else. "Are you looking for someone, too?" she asked quietly, choosing to sidestep his question.

Leon jerked, faintly irritated that his emotions were so easily read. "Yeah," he answered simply. Then he frowned; _he_ was asking the questions here, not the other way around. "So who were you looking for?"

She shrugged, the thick fabric of the cloak sitting heavily on her shoulders. "Someone I got separated from when...when my world was destroyed." It was the truth, but not the whole truth.

"Same here." They walked onwards, with no destination in mind. He decided to find out a little more about this strange girl's past. "So how did you get here, anyway?"

"No clue. After the first explosion, I blanked out. I found myself on these streets after I woke, probably a few hours after. I've been wandering around ever since." Aerith swallowed painfully; god, talking about the past was hard, especially when it was still so fresh, barely a year. She glanced at him, thinking that, somewhere, she had seen him before. It puzzled her. "What about you?"

He gave her a cynical smile. "Aren't all survivor stories alike?" he asked cryptically, digging his hands into his pockets. There descended a silence that was not wholly welcome. Leon blew out a breath, and continued grudgingly, "After my world fell, I got...transported? Shipped? Whatever the right word is, I was in Traverse Town the next thing I knew, and the gang back there gave me as much of a warm welcome as they tried to give to you."

Aerith shivered, rubbing her arms to generate some mild heat. "That's terrible. How long ago was that? You weren't a kid then, were you?"

Leon shook his head, and they turned the corner into District Two. "It was just a year ago."

"Really? My world was destroyed a year ago, too." Something was nagging her. Something she just couldn't quite put a finger on... "What world did you come from?" she asked suddenly. It seemed strange, to ask a stranger these questions before even asking his name, but she had to know...

He stared at her, surprised by her urgency. "Hallow..."

"Bastion...?" she finished, her suspicions confirmed. His eyes widened, then contracted.

"Yeah. How'd you know...?" Leon took a closer look, and found himself remembering. Right. He remembered her from Hallow Bastion, even though it was only once or twice that he had seen her. They never had been in much of the same social circles, anyway. Hallow Bastion had been...busier then. "I remember you."

"Me too. But I never knew your name." Where were they headed, anyway? District two seemed abandoned, dark and forbidding with all its creepy shadows. Leon pointed down the cobblestone pathway, at the...sewer? She sent him a raised eyebrow. Sighing, he took her by the hand and, knocking down the sewer grate with one kick, led her inside.

"I think I'm assuming correctly that you don't have a place to stay?" he said, letting go when they arrived at more cobblestone-laid ground after waddling past the sewage water. 

She turned to face him with a steely glint in her eye. "You do. What about it?"

"You can stay here. It's safe enough, and I've already stocked some things here." He turned to leave, sending her into a frenzy.

"Hey, wait!" she rambled, angry that he was ditching her here in this desolate place, "You're going to leave me alone here? Are you serious! I don't even know your name!" A bewildering non-sequitir that had slipped out, surprising even her. Defiantly she jutted her chin out. _It didn't matter. Imagine, the nerve of this guy!_ she thought furiously.

And, to her eternal disappointment, he wasn't even interested in listening, instead concentrating on walking away. "Hey-!" she began again heatedly, but he turned back to look at her, his face impassive.

"You can call me...Leon." 

"Eh..." she flushed, not really expecting....expecting any response at all. "I...I'm Aerith. Nice...to meet you." And she bowed, trying to hide the redness in her cheeks. Shit. She was crying again, for no reason. Shakily she brought up a hand to wipe the tears away, trembling simply because the future seemed so uncertain.

"As I said," he told her, almost out of the gate, "You can stay here for the moment. I'll be back again."

"A-alright," she answered, a bit miserably. Could she trust him? Could she trust anyone? She wanted to. She was tired of everything. Settling down would be a welcome change, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it? "Come back soon," she whispered, her voice trailing off in the empty silence. "Don't leave me alone."


	3. Aflame

Author's Quickie: Well, didn't expect to see me in another few hundred years, eh? Okay, it's your lucky day. Another chapter! Whew! I think I'm going to update every two months or so... :D No, just kidding. After I finish **Project: Trinity**, I'll be able to devote much more time to this fanfic (not to mention the coming of summer vaca. Thanks to all the readers who've read both, I know I'm a pain in the a** when it comes to updating.

Disclaimer: Add it on yerselves, you people who actually read this. :D

****

Astray

Chapter Three: Aflame

Holding her hand up to her nose to keep away the musty smell of sewage, Aerith walked unsteadily to the end of the cobblestone area, growing more and more depressed by the minute. _This is insane_, she thought helplessly, trying not to retch when she saw a water beetle skitter across the grimy surface of the water, _I shouldn't have come here._

She said it like she had a choice. Aerith sighed, dropping into a seating position onto the cold, flat stones. Her eyes roamed around, and she saw a beautiful mural painted in the east wall, a bright sun shining in the middle. Vaguely she wondered if Leon had painted it himself. 

He didn't look like he was that kind of guy, but maybe appearances could be deceiving.

She sniffed experimentally, surprised when the air didn't smell. In fact, it smelled _nice_. Something told her it was cinnamon sticks, but that was crazy. She hadn't smelt cinnamon for over a year now. Glancing around for the source of the new smell, her eyes caught sight of a sachet of potpourri hanging near the doorway, wrapped carefully in a red pouch and tied with a blue satin ribbon. She walked over to it, touching it lightly with her hands. The dried leaves crinkled noisily at the touch.

Aerith took it off the nail in the door and held it to her nose, inhaling the deep, calming scent of cinnamon. Sometimes it would irritate her nose if there was too much of it, but it was just the right amount: not too fiery, but not too sweet, either. 

"What are you doing?" The abrupt voice of Leon made her nearly drop the sachet to the ground. She glanced up into his cold blue eyes, a faint smile frozen in place. The sachet clung to her fingers like incriminating evidence.

"It...it smells nice," she said awkwardly. She turned and hung the pouch back on the hook, dangling by the strand of blue ribbon. Aerith walked over to meet him, a little sheepish.

Impassively Leon watched her, his gaze stony. "Don't you know better than to touch people's things?" he said sharply, annoyed she had went after the one thing he had managed to take with him from Hallow Bastion, besides his life. He went over to the door and tugged the potpourri pouch off the nail, stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

A little wounded, Aerith nevertheless strived for some light conversation. "What's in there? It smells like cinnamon, but it also smells like this flower I once knew..." She thought back, trying to bring up the name, but only got a picture in her head of a vibrant blue flower with five petals. Oh, god, it had been so long since she had seen any greenery. Too long.

"It's called the aegis flower," Leon said finally, closing his eyes with the memory. Her white hands, weaving the petals together so that it would form a clumsy heart.

_"Here. Since you gave me your necklace, I'll give you this. To remember me by."_ God, how could he forget?

"Yes, that's it." Aerith nodded in agreement, inhaling deeply once more. The scent tickled her nose, and she smiled. "I used to tend to the castle gardens, and they always had a few of these in a green patch, all by themselves." That garden patch. Cloud used to pick the flowers for her, because she had once said how they mirrored his eyes. Aerith glanced furtively at Leon, noticing how well the flowers mirrored his eyes, too. 

The silence that came was deafening. "I miss them," Aerith said quietly, her fingers twisting upon her lap. "I want to go home, and pretend none of this ever happened."

"Don't we all," Leon said sardonically, shaking his head at her emotions. 

Aerith flared. "You don't have to be like that, you know! What gives you the right to act so haughty? I've went through so much more, but you don't see me snapping at everyone within three steps, do you?"

"I doubt you've been through more," Leon scoffed, a hand on his hip.

"Try me," Aerith said icily.

Leon laughed, a bark of sharp laughter that mocked her. "You couldn't even take care of those idiots back in the street! Don't be a fool."

"Just because I didn't want to hurt them doesn't mean I couldn't win!" she shot back, her fury mounting. She had had it. The nerve of this guy, to treat her like something less than a human being! _Forget it, _she thought, flushing angrily, _he's not like Cloud at all! _

He tapped the point of his sword on the cobblestones, the blade making a faint _tink_ every time it hit the ground. He regarded her, dismissing her ability to fight. She wasn't carrying a weapon, she was a girl, and she looked especially fragile. Leon cocked his head, a grimace on his face. "Alright. Prove it."

She looked ready to kill at his words, but stiffly replied, "No. I don't have to stoop to your level. Prove it to yourself, if you want to."

A wry smile flitted across his face and he slid the gunblade back into its sheath. "Afraid to hurt me, eh?" he said mockingly, even as his conscience told him not to be so cruel.

Her head jerked up in response and she shot a hand out, and the next thing he knew was that he had rolled onto the ground by sheer reflex. A crack of lightning hit the spot where he had been standing a moment before, a black mark on the stone and the smell of smoke lingering in the air. 

"A magic user," he hissed under his breath. It explained why she had no weapon, and perhaps why she had implied she had been through more. Magic was dangerous and illusive, to be courted only by the most powerful souls. He himself had mastered only one spell, and it was very unwieldy most of the time.

Aerith's facial features tightened, but she smoothed them away and regarded him with a hint of pity. "All you've known in life is to fight, isn't it?" she asked softly. "And because you've lost that one battle in your life, you're bitter."

Leon's face twisted into a deep snarl. "Don't pity me," he said, straightening up.

"There was once a man who was like you, too," she said slowly, looking down at the palm of her outstretched hand. "A man who thought that revenge was his only reason to live. He had lost, once, to a rival, and thought he couldn't go on. He turned cold, and bitter, and locked his heart in a cage." She glanced up, seeing Leon's haunted eyes riveted to her, a fire aglow behind them. She smiled painfully at him, knowing how the resentment ate at his heart. "And then..."

"Don't tell me. He found a girl, a girl who showed him the way back, didn't he?" He shook his head, a contemptuous scowl on his lips. "Sorry," he said, the ice back in his eyes, "but fairy tales don't come true."

"But it does. How can they come true if you never believe in them?" she asked, anguished. 

"A man who believed something once, and then found out what lies they are, never goes back," he told her, dropping a shopping bag into her arms. "I'm going out again. You can sleep upstairs, there's a little cottage there. I'll come see you in the morning."

After he was gone, Aerith looked down into the bag. There was an assortment of women's clothes and shoes and necessary toiletries, including a long, delicate copper-handled brush that looked familiar as well. "Oh!" she said in surprise, picking up something that had been left behind precariously on top, the familiar scent of cinnamon warming her senses. A red sachet stared back at her, the blue ribbon fluttering in the weak breeze.

"He doesn't believe in fairy tales," she murmured, placing the bag down gently. "How sad."

* * *

[Ending notes: Aww, how sad. I know, I know, mundane, right? But I _like_ the mundane, the little interactions that mean a lot in the long run. Perfect for them two to begin to bond, eh?]


	4. Replay

[Author's Quickie: I finally got another chapter out! God, this is killing me… In any case, how is everyone doing? Project Trinity will be updated by the end of this week, so there's something to look forward to. Eh, anyway, I did something bad: I made a flashback! Horrors! You'll see what I mean as you read on.]

Disclaimer: Junk it, move on.

Astray

Chapter Four: Replay

"You know, for a man who seems a cold bastard, he can be rather pleasant when he isn't here," Aerith said aloud to herself, popping open a bag of potato chips as she sat down on the stones. After Leon had taken his leave, she had retreated upstairs to take a bath, finding the small hut that he had mentioned. After a quick rummaging through of the bag of necessities he had left for her, she was pleased to discover that he considered potato chips a necessity. _Low-fat, too_, she noted as she surveyed the chart on the back. It was the thought that counted, after all.

She had plopped herself down on the cobblestones in front of the mural, finding the painting fascinating to stare at and contemplate. The rusty, dank smell of the sewer no longer bothered her, not with the blue ribbon from the satchel tied in her hair. By mistake, she had clumsily dropped her original pink one into the water she had been draining from the bath, and she had been hard pressed to find a temporary substitute. Aerith quickly made a mental note to take it off before Leon surfaced again, in case he turned psychopathic on her. Again.

_But, truth to tell, _she mused silently, flicking a chip into her mouth, _it isn't his anger that frustrates me._ It was the sorrow. It was the burden of guilt and shame that he carried along with him, the self-deprecation that followed him like a ghost.

Somehow, Leon had failed once. _His love, perhaps?_

That would explain the pained look on his face when she mentioned the flower, touched the sachet. That would explain why his face seemed like it was twisted in a permanent scowl, explained why he didn't believe in fairy tales.

_But_, she thought, crunching on a handful of chips, her appetite growing as she wondered more and more about the enigma that was Leon--no last name, either--all the while staring off at that strange mural, _But how could such a man--a man who doesn't believe in fairy tales--paint such a beautiful picture?_ The painting seemed like it was born out of a storybook: a vibrant yellow sun, surrounded by splashes of a rainbow behind. It had to be someone else. But who?

_No_, Aerith decided, Leon had definitely painted it. The thought only made her want to know more about him. Vaguely--_very_ vaguely, because it had been more than a year ago, and so many things had happened since then--she recalled seeing Leon at a party once, a few years back. Yes, that was right. One of Ansem's annual banquets for affluent members of society. 

Naturally, she hadn't been included (being only a mere librarian and hardly one of use to the mighty Ansem). Of course, that fact didn't prevent her from peeking in through the door that led to the hall. As a bookworm--and a highly introverted one, too, wanting to do nothing more than stay away from masses of people--she was nonetheless fascinated by the fancy dress and highly formal manners. And, of course, she reminisced, that didn't prevent her from getting into trouble--the very best kind of trouble.

-----

"Oh..." Aerith had breathed, a hand to her mouth, dazzled by the lavish display of wealth, "how beautiful..." Couples were waltzing to a three-step beat, twirling in their delicate ballroom dresses, the diamonds that glittered like twinkling stars on slender necks and wrists. Everyone was so beautiful, so happy.

She, in return, felt uncomfortably inferior. Aerith touched her own pale cheek, flinching as her skin rubbed against the nasty papercut she had gotten earlier that day. Quickly she dropped her hand and clenched the rough white dress she had on. Who was she kidding? She was a nobody.

The end of the music drew her attention away from her own meager attributes and she turned back to the dance. Interestedly, she watched as a couple retreated from the dance floor towards the refreshment tables, the young man dressed in a uniform silent but smiling as the raven-haired girl chatted animatedly. Awkwardly, Aerith tried to mimic the girl's actions, but gave up as she realized how ridiculous she was becoming. _Don't put on airs if you don't have any,_ she told herself harshly. She doubted the other girl had papercuts on her fingers daily.

As they passed the door, Aerith caught a shred of their conversation:

"Lighten up, Squall," the girl teased, her hand on his arm, "You're such an old lady sometimes. I wonder."

The man frowned, then reached over and tugged on her hair. "Don't say that. I'm trying to get better, I really am." The girl laughed and swatted his hand away, then leant her head on his shoulder. "Rinoa, you're such a child sometimes," the man sighed, and they disappeared from view to the other side of the room.

Shifting slightly in the doorway to get a better view of the ballroom, Aerith winced as the glass door creaked indignantly in response. Immediately she cringed and ducked around the corner as a guard came up to inspect the noise, breathing a little sigh of relief when he left. It wouldn't do to be caught poking and prying into matters, since she was only a simple librarian, not as important as any of the prominent people who were currently occupying the floor. But if only...

A sudden tap on her shoulder sent her nerves shrieking in fear. She froze. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to--!" she uttered, already anticipating the punishment of having to wash the lower floors a dozen times. Whirling around, a hand clamped to her mouth, Aerith raised her eyes and stared into the most intense blue gaze she had ever seen.

The man raised an eyebrow at her abrupt confession, but said as if he hadn't heard, "Excuse me. Can you direct me to the Grand Hall, please?" His voice was low and his gaze impassable, but his words were polite enough. _Another one of Ansem's soldiers, perhaps? _she wondered fleetingly, catching a quick look at the enormous sword strapped to his back.

Flushing instantly at having blurted out an unintended apology to a stranger, Aerith nevertheless recovered and murmured in a small voice, "It's...it's right behind this door, sir." Quickly she moved aside, allowing the strange man to pass through. 

Before he went in, though, he glanced at her with those arcane blue eyes and said, "Thanks." As he retreated into the grand room and the heavy door swung shut behind him, Aerith sagged against the wall. Shakily she placed a hand to her cheek, which felt as if she had lit it on fire. _Oh, oh…_

Somehow, in that one look, something had…opened. A door had been opened. If someone asked her describe it, she would have found it impossible; yet there was no denying that from the moment she saw that stranger, something in her life had infinitely changed.

Shaking her head, Aerith went back to the library, pausing to wipe the bookshelves aimlessly as she passed.

A door had been opened.

***

"Ah….almost…got it…" Aerith grumbled as she reached up, standing precariously on tippy-toes to grab the heavy book. Dang herself for being so short, she thought, sweating as she extended her arm as far as it could go. _Oh…no!_ Too late, she felt the sudden shift in her balance as the ladder swung underneath her. _This is going to hurt_-- "Ouch!"

She toppled onto the floor, her legs splayed beneath her in a crooked angle. To add insult to injury, the book she had been reaching for fell onto the ground beside her, its binding breaking with a loud crack. "Oh, great," she groaned, trying to stand up and finding her ankle twisted.

_Well, that would explain the way it's bending right now, _Aerith surveyed, gingerly touching her foot. Taking a deep breath, she looked around for any other people in the library. Strangely enough, the room was empty. Exhaling the breath she had been holding, Aerith touched her ankle gently and focused on the light. 

Sure enough, the white magic coursed through her fingers, the cure spell winding its way around her flesh and bone, erasing the pain. "Ah," she sighed in relief, straightening up. Her leg no longer wobbled as she applied pressure to it, and it felt just as good as new. _Thank god for my magic, _she thought, bending down to pick up the broken volume of Emerson's Walden. "Long-winded old bat," Aerith said aloud, heaving the dusty book onto a nearby table. "Serves you right."

It was a temptation to leave the book as it was, without bothering to fix it, but she knew that Ansem would visit the library every Friday and he wanted his books in perfect condition. It was a shame, really. "Alright," she said, poking the molding pages, "but it's for my skin, not yours." Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the magic building up inside of her and took a tiny part of it, willing it to recover the book. When she opened her eyes, the binding was fixed; in fact, the manuscript looked brand-new. "I am good," she said appreciatively, marveling at her own power.

"Indeed," a voice said from the doorway. Aerith jumped and spun around, and, to her eternal mortification, saw Lord Ansem watching her intently. _Oh, no. Today's Friday?!_ she thought in a panic. That would explain why there were no one else to found in the library. Ansem stepped out of the shadows and bowed as he approached her. "My dear lady, I had no idea you were so well taught in the use of magic."

She flushed. "I'm not," she denied modestly, "I only know a few spells…that's all."

"But you seem to control the power very well. I don't recollect you having had any tutoring…perhaps you have a natural affinity for magic, then?" Ansem correctly surmised, rubbing his chin. He bent over to examine the now-repaired book, nodding at her handiwork. "Why didn't you tell me? I've been looking for some white mages…The soldiers recently have had a lot of trouble subduing the monster attacks on the outskirt villages." Silently Aerith took this in, wondering if this was leading to where she thought it was leading to. He continued musing, "You wouldn't mind, Aerith, if I transferred you over to the Healers? It would be a benefit to both parties, wouldn't it?"

She tried, very conscientiously, not to gape at him. The Healers were an elite group of skilled white mages, who used their magic only for good purposes. They were very well known in affluent social circles, since their prestige was immense. Was Ansem really suggesting…? "Thank you sir, but I am a mere librarian. I have no skill beyond my paltry abilities, and to join the Healers…" she quivered, not knowing quite what to say. But this was what she wanted, right? She had wanted to be a part of the inner crowd, wanted to help others since she was a little girl. Why was she refusing, now? She ran her hand over the paper cut on her finger helplessly.

Ansem's brow creased. "You do not want to join the Healers?"

Aerith flushed and said quickly, "No, of course not! I'd be honored to join the Healers, yet I don't think I'm quite cut out for that job…"

He waved her depreciating remark away with his hand and said almost impatiently, "Nonsense. If you're worried about it so much, then I can arrange for you to be an apprentice to one of the Healers and you can work your way up. In any case, why don't you give it a try? I'm sure everything will work out alright in the end."

"…Yes, sir. Thank you." There was nothing else to say. Aerith bowed, partly in gratitude, partly in misgiving, and retreated out the door.

It closed softly behind her.

+++

A day later, she found herself way over her head.

Not only had she been ushered out of the library, Aerith found herself tramping up the higher corridors of the castle to find the Healers' tower, the ones that were strictly forbidden. A thrill rushed down her back; this was what she had hoped for, wasn't it? To feel important? It had seemed a whole lot easier to dream about it, really…

She stopped at the end of the hall, and reflexively her hand went up to knock at the solid oak door. _Is this really such a good idea?_ she asked herself, her hand curling up into a fist. She was dealing with elite white mages, practiced in the art of magic. She was only a librarian, for crying aloud! _Roadkill._

But before she could break down entirely and run away from there, the door swung open and Aerith found herself facing the future.


End file.
